Hell on Earth
by Colbert
Summary: What if the world was plunged deep into an anarchistic state due to Voldemort's destruction? Will our hero survive? Or will he meet a sticky end on the jaws some foul beast? Currently a one shot. Ill throw a few more chapters up later on in the game.


This was a nightmare. That's all that he could decipher from this hellish unreality that he was caught in the middle of. Had it not been only a few days ago that London was a warm albeit damp, exciting and welcoming place? Was it only a few days ago? It might've been weeks, hell, maybe YEARS since the Anarchistic state that England and the majority of the civilized world had been thrown into.

Ever since the death of Dumbledore and the following attacks upon the Ministry, Voldemort's forces quickly overthrew the Magical and Muggle governments of England, throwing the country into absolute chaos. Death Eaters roamed the streets raping and pillaging, hoards of beasts meandered their way through the alleyways and the worst of the lot, most people hadn't a way to protect themselves. Most muggles might've had a pistol or rifle, but far too few were trained in actual battle. Magical Folk knew of simple defense spells from their magical education, but otherwise they were in as dire a situation similar to the rest. Other countries quickly followed England's fall, Germany, France, then Spain. Portugal had managed to survive the initial onslaught but quickly surrendered after a blockade caused mass starvation and death. The Mediterranean states, Greece, Italy, and Turkey had each held their own for a sizeable amount of time until four consecutive assassinations of almost every government figure in Greece and Turkey caused the two respective countries to fall. Italy still stands as one of the two free countries in Europe. Some speculate it's because of the massive wealth of the country, what with housing the head of the Catholic Church… Others think its is because the Italians were just robust and vicious fighters. Africa fell almost completely within the first attack, since the tribal bands and governments were so disorganized that a mere showing of arms had the country groveling at Voldemort's feet. Russia had an intense time fending off the Evil Forces, but in the end, they too fell to Voldemort. The other, more minor countries, Czechoslovakia, Lithuania, etc, proved to have no defenses at all; they were easily mowed down. Surprisingly, Estonia and Latvia actually joined forces with Voldemort in the beginning.

Ireland, in a stroke of amazement, had kept well clear of Voldemort's campaign. Of course the Dark Lord had attempted to attack Ireland, but the Irish magical government, the Steel of Carrick, quickly placed Anti-Apparition wards all over the country and hastily made shoreline defenses to stall attempted landings following the reports of England falling. Combined with ancient Druidic runescapes and spellworks, Ireland was practically impenetrable. For the moment, Ireland was the safest place in all of Europe.

The Americas were unable to stall the advance of Voldemort and his massive armies simply due to the fact that the American countries were so enormous. There were many states and provinces that proved to be able to hold back and survive on their own, such as Texas and Colombia. Texas was able to stall the advances and install defenses, both muggle and magical. Texas is, as of now, a self-sufficient state. Colombia, as badly as it sounds, was able to install defences with drug money. There are also pockmarked areas of resistance and free areas, otherwise untouched by the Dark Lord.

All of Asia and the Middle East fell, simply because of the ensuing chaos after their governments were removed. Australia had proven hard to snag, mainly due to the fact that there were substantial wards already around the island country from tribal magic generations old. These wards, along with coastal defenses were quickly reinforced.

Either way you looked at it, from the viewpoint of the Dark Forces or the Free, the planet was screwed.

He ran down an abandoned street, burnt-out cars, fires, remnants of past battles, broken and beaten bodies visible, in vain search for shelter.

Breathing heavily in the pale moonlight, sweat glistening off his forehead, he grunted frustratingly, as he needed to find a safe house, and soon. With a sharp intake of breath and a quick look behind himself he ran to a bombed out shop's alley.

Crouching behind an inconspicuous City owned dumpster, Harry Potter watched the streets before him, disgusted with the sight he saw.

Across the darkened London street of which Harry didn't know the name of (the street nameplate had been long been destroyed) a group of figures hobbled at a creepy, life draining pace. The characters seemed to radiate death and decay all around them. As one of the group passed, a small flower growing between the sidewalk streets quickly wilted and began rotting. The creature took no notice.

"I really hate zombies," Harry thought to himself. Indeed, a squadron of Inferi, or as most of the muggle and magical world liked to refer to as zombies, made their decrepit way on the streets of muggle London.

Emitting low groans and quiet screams of help almost as if they were suffering under their own damned existence, these five abominations with slowly rotting appendages quested in desperation for their never ending lust of flesh and blood, human or animal alike. They shambled aimlessly, hoping for some sign of sustenance. No living being was safe in their presence; no living being was beyond their palette.

Though Harry found their very existence disturbing, disgusting, frightening, and evil, he knew well their plight; he hadn't eaten for a day or so either.

A loud growl emitted from Harry's unhappy stomach. Panicking, Harry placed quick pressure on his abdomen, trying to suppress the sound. It didn't work quite as well as he hoped.

One of the Inferi heard the grumble. Only for a moment, it stopped its slow hobble and audible groans while looking with one slightly rotted eye with curiosity for the source. Its one eye seemed to light with joy and anticipation. With sudden speed that the demon's form didn't let off, the former male businessman in a pinstriped suit and tie approached Harry behind his hiding spot.

"Fuck!" Harry screamed in his head, rising from his crouched position. He quickly pointed his want at the fast approaching undead, hoping against hope that he could overcome just one beast. It would give him enough time to make a break for it again.

"Reducto!" He screamed audibly, and a flash of lethal magic broke forth from Harry's want.

His aim was true, and the spell powerful. The head of the undead man literally exploded in a spray of flash, bone, and ichor. The zombie made an unnatural stop when the spell collided with its head, as if the incantations surrounding the beast suddenly stopped working. Ever so slowly the beast fell to the concrete ground, a sickening splat making Harry look away. His wand was still pointed in the general direction of the inferi.

The other four beasts stood as if shocked by the death of their comrade. The "leader" of the group, (or what Harry thought was the leader as it was the biggest and in the middle) broke the uneasy silence cast with an earsplitting hell scream, quickly followed up by the other three.

"Crap. Waited too long!" Harry mumbled to himself as he quickly beat it down the street again, the four zombies in hot pursuit. The nightmare was getting worse.

Harry haphazardly cast reductos behind himself as he pumped his legs. Only a few collided with his intended targets, but none were entirely effective. Arms and parts of the zombies ricocheted off their torsos and legs. They never stopped, completely immersed in their hell wrought bloodlust.

His foot caught on his robes. Harry landed hard on the ground, the wind knocked out of him. He knew that wearing robes today was a bad idea. "You wanted to look nice for the zombies!" Harry's mind mocked himself.

As Harry sputtered, attempting to catch his breath he rolled over only to meet the ravenous gazes of four very tee'd off inferi closing in slowly.

Sensing his impending doom, Harry chuckled nervously. "Hey guys…" he said apprehensively.

"I know you lot would like to eat me, and I bet I would be a rather tasty specimen if I do say so myself," the slow approach of the four halted momentarily, ever the while Harry was slowly crab-walking backwards to the best of his ability. The smaller zombies looked at their leader as if asking for guidance. "But do you really want to?"

The leader groaned and lowered faster, ignoring the lower zombies. The others quickly followed suit.

Harry was becoming extremely panicked at this point. For a second there, he thought he was Scott-free, "Come on now, no need for that," he said quickly, pushing at the rotting hands painfully gripping his legs and left shoulder. Almost lovingly the four lowered their heads and opened their mouths to unnatural proportions, ready to feast. "Hey, I told you hands off, this is prime meat. You have to have a permit for that jaw," he said pseudo-sarcastically. In reality, he was scared out of his wits, only just trying to hide his fear. Inferi have been known to attack with greater veracity when in the presence of the fearful.

"…Bollocks…" Harry moaned when he realized that he might not survive to see the next sunrise. A three-fingered hand was obscuring his face, knocking off his glasses. "Back-up would be cool right now," he whined to no one in particular. He closed his eyes, preparing for the worst, his nightmare reaching its pinnacle.

As if heeding his order, there were four consecutive flashes of light, ichor and rotting flesh splattering Harry's body. Harry's eyes were tightly shut, as grime and stuff he'd rather not know about was sopping on his face.

Slowly he rose to a sitting position and attempted to wipe his face off. The slimy resin was proving difficult.

"Oh, you're hopeless," a voice said jokingly, and suddenly the ichor was washed from Harry's face in a cascade of pink bubbles.

Picking up his now sparkling-clean glasses glasses, he stood.

"Like I asked to be running from zombies, Hermione. Everyone knows I love coming by here to have a spot of tea with my friendly undead mates," he said sarcastically, "And you just had to come by and ruin the main course."

Hermione was in a gold trimmed crimson battle robe, as Harry could tell from the pale moonlight. No more were there thick and unwieldy robes of yesteryear. Formal robes were rarely used anymore. Hermione looked as though she hadn't aged one bit since her final year of Hogwarts, still looking all her 18 years. If she hadn't told you, you'd have never found out she was running on 23.

Hermione put on a smug look, "Well, you can't start eating until the lady does. It's tradition, you know."

Harry himself looked the same, 18ish and proud. They had found out from their latest encounter with Voldemort that a curse he used on the Golden Trio caused advanced aging, and by the time they had escaped from the Riddle Manor, Harry was full bearded and gray, Hermione was doubled over and white haired, and Ron was about as fast as a sloth. To counter the aging effect, they had used a rare potion that reversed their age continually until a counter potion could be used to stop the de-aging. The only side effect was that they didn't age anymore. One day, they were just suddenly going to die, and no one would know why, since they would look completely healthy.

Harry made a snorting noise and was about to make a snappy comeback until there was the telltale signal of danger: a series of low moans from the darkness.

Snapping to attention, he quickly took hold of Hermione's arm and led her to an abandoned house, boards covering the door and windows. The house appeared to be pseudo-Victorian. Obviously, the owners weren't home, the wrought iron gate wide open, one door of it completely off. The garder was overgrown and the tall trees cast imposing shadows on the house. With a quick reductor, the doorway was freed from its boards, followed by an equally hasty repair from Hermione.

"Lumos."

The pair was in the foyer of a small apartment. The entire place was dusty and the air felt slightly damp. There were upturned tables and chairs. Obvious exits were up the stairs not 5 feet away, to the left to what Harry could only describe as a dining room, to the right to a living space, and forward to what was assumed to be the kitchen as there was a swinging door there.

Breaking a leg from one of the upturned tables Harry cast a Torch Charm and passed it to Hermione. He did the same from himself.

"Ugh."

With sufficient lighting they could tell that whomever lived here last definitely didn't leave quietly… or die quietly. Blood spray was on the wall, floor, and ceiling of the living space. It looked as if the person who was killed here was also dragged forward toward the kitchen.

Stepping tenderly over the bloodstains, Harry pointed his wand toward the biggest and heaviest looking piece of furniture he could find, which happened to be a large TV hutch. With a quick swish, he floated the piece and slammed it against the wall where the door and window was, blocking the only apparent entrance and exit to the building. Not seconds later, there was a second, softer thump from the other side. Suddenly, there was a ravenous beating on the door outside, with the groans of a minimum of two inferi from what Harry could tell.

Slowly the beating stopped and the groans floated away, father down the street. The two both released a breath that they didn't know they were holding.

"Well this place looks like a nice hideout for the moment," said Hermione with an air of discontent. She hated zombies just as much as the next person. "Shall we have a look around?"

Harry nodded slowly, still looking at the door. For some reason, he was getting an odd feeling from cutting off the only exit he knew of.

The explored the house slowly, making sure there were no hidden enemies, specifically Zombies. They had a record for being silent until you least expected them to appear. First it was the living room, which besides the grizzly bloodstain, there was nothing of importance. The Dining room was much the same, besides a few upturned chairs.

With an increasing feeling of foreboding, Harry led Hermione into the hall beside the stairs to the Kitchen. The door was caked with dried blood. He slowly creaked the swing door open. Harry coughed when he saw what was inside.

"Well, here's the previous owner," he said, disgusted. They walked in to fully see what appeared to be the meal of a few inferi.

A man, or what looked like a man because of the pants the corpse was wearing, had been completely disemboweled. The head was entirely missing. What appeared to be his left arm was picked clean only feet away.

Stepping closer, they realized that the torso was merely an open cavity, all organs taken out. Bits and pieces of them lay strewn about the body.

"Urgh," said Hermione, taking a look around the kitchen, anywhere but the corpse. She had seen many dead before, but never the eaten. Dishes and silverware were on the table, as was what appeared to be dinner. These people would never live to eat anything again.

"I don't think we would like to stay on the first floor anymore," said Harry suddenly, looking at the back of the kitchen. A door to another room stood ajar, and something was sitting in the gap.

"Oh my God," Hermione gasped as a body, or more specifically a torso fell in from it's upright position and onto the floor, knocking the door open. The room beyond was pitch black. "Is it dead?"

The body lacked legs, or hipbones for that matter. It looked as though it has been hewn into two by a drunken executioner. Intestines trailed from where the hips should have been. Hair was falling off its head in tufts. The entire corpse looked as if it had been rotting for a couple weeks, as it appeared to have no eyes. The smell it exuded was so incredibly sickly-sweet that Harry gagged slightly.

"I get the feeling, no," and on cue, the half of a man looked blindly for the source of the sound. It hissed.

"Well, there's our friend who did this guy in," Harry said before shooting a reductor at the undead. It collided with its neck, and as such, it fell lifeless to the floor. Ichor-spray was now all over the wall behind the beast, as well as the door.

"Lets go," Harry said quickly, grabbing Hermione lightly around the arm and leading her up the stairs, "Zombies really don't like heights from what I've seen. I thought I saw an observation tower on the top of this apartment. I don't know why, but muggles thought they were handy. What's more is that I don't think only one zombie could eat a man like that."

The two crossed well over two flights of stairs before they found the observation tower. It was completely surrounded by windows. In total, it was probably twenty feet in area, so well enough space for a rest. Harry locked the door and ladder that led up to their now safe haven. No zombie would be able to attack them whilst they rested.

While Harry was placing a few more-lethal protection wards on the door, Hermione looked out from the tower windows. Burning buildings, shells of previously gutted buildings, bodies everywhere… She could hardly fathom that this is what used to be her home. A series of explosions set off in the distance, from what appeared to be a petrol station.

"Yea, I'm not gonna lie here… I really wish we didn't live in England right now," said Harry slowly, coming to stand beside Hermione and observe the now giant fireball in the sky. "It's not as welcoming as it once was."

"At least we were able to get the majority of those we cared for out," Hermione replied quietly, leaning on the windowsill, "But we couldn't do anything for anybody else in England." Hermione wave her hand in the direction of the city.

"Yea," he replied softly, "but we can't save everyone. I learned that after Hogwarts got attacked."

Hermione nodded.

'But, what can we do. We're only two people. The Order was in disarray after Dumbledore's death. We might've had around 40 people in total, to battle armies of hundreds. Then the attacks on the Ministry, those just broke all pretense of secrecy concerning magic and muggles," Harry said.

He shivered as a panicked scream ran out from the distance, followed by a few telltale hell screams. The disturbing sound of a man being eaten alive soon followed, his absolute terror and torture clearly signaled by his wails. Harry sighed.

"When the muggles learned about us, you remember what happened…" he said as he fiddled with his robe sleeve.

Hermione nodded, and lowered her face. A barely audible "witch hunts," escaped her lips.

Harry turned from the window and lay on the dirty hardwood floor. He shivered again, wishing that there was a fireplace or that the muggle heating system still worked.

"And then Voldemort just took over. There wasn't anything we could have done."

Hermione heaved a large sigh and ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes showing the weariness of her mind. She sat across the room from Harry.

"We need to get away from here, Harry," she said sadly, "I'm tired of the running, I'm tired of the fighting. I want to go some place where I can relax and not have to worry about zombies knocking down my door, or Death Eaters taking my loved ones. Don't get me started on the vampire problem that is arising."

Low groans emitted from the floor beneath the two. This only served to make Hermione sigh again.

"See what I mean? I really wish that we don't have to be here looking for survivors."

Harry rubbed his eyes slowly while speaking.

"If we didn't, who would?"


End file.
